


No Chick-Flick Moments

by PrinceSircastic



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Smut, Wing Grooming, Wingfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-20
Updated: 2012-07-20
Packaged: 2017-11-10 09:02:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/464544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrinceSircastic/pseuds/PrinceSircastic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean had always assumed an angel's wings would be white. He assumed wrong.</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Chick-Flick Moments

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for my lovely friend Tori. Things like the colour of Cas' wings were decided by her because I asked if she wanted anything specific.
> 
> First time writing Destiel, and first time writing a wingfic. Forgive any OOCness from the characters, and any incorrect information or descriptions of wings. I did some research into the different feathers, but I could still have missed something, etc.
> 
> Enjoy!

Dean had always assumed an angel’s wings would be white. 

He put it down to the stereotype – after all, almost every depiction of angels that he’d seen had shown them with those oversized fluffy white wings. Of course, he really should have known better, considering the angels he’d met certainly didn’t match those depictions in any other way. He glanced over at the figure stood awkwardly by the door, and couldn’t help but smirk a little – Castiel was definitely not your typical angel, that was for sure. 

“You can sit down, Cas.” He murmured, picking up his cheeseburger to take another ridiculous bite. Castiel shifted slightly, looking rather lost in the motel room and Dean knew it was only a matter of time before- 

“Why did you call me here?” –before Cas asked why he was here. Sometimes he was too damn predictable. “And where is Sam?” 

“Sam’s out tonight.” Dean polished off the rest of the burger and wiped his hands on a napkin, stretching his legs out beneath the table he was sat at. “Don’t look so tense, Cas.” 

“You didn’t answer my question.” He scrunched the wrapper from his cheeseburger into a ball, and tossed it skilfully into the trash can across the room, not missing the irritated sigh from the angel by the door. “Dean, I have things I could be-,” 

“You really don’t get subtle, do you?” Castiel frowned, head tilting to one side in an almost comical imitation of a confused puppy. “I sent Sam out and called your ass down here so we could…” 

“Could what?” Dean stared at him a moment, trying to work out if he’d have to spell it out for him – oh, who was he kidding? This was Cas. Of  _course_  he’d have to spell it out for him. 

“… Be alone, Cas. The two of us.” 

“Oh.” If possible, he looked even  _more_  awkward now. “Are you expecting carnal relations?” 

“Well you’re all about the romance, aren’t you Cas?” Dean shook his head, surprised that the angel could still manage to baffle him even now, and rose from the rickety wooden chair he had collapsed in earlier. “Look it was just an idea I had, but if you’re too busy with your angel buddies then it can wait.” Part of him expected to hear the telltale flutter of wings that signalled Cas’ departure, but instead all he heard was the quiet rustling of a garment being removed. 

“No. I can stay.” Cas dropped his trench coat onto the bed closest to him – Sam’s bed – and gave Dean that almost-smile that showed more in his eyes than on his face. Dean took a few steps forward, one hand partially outstretched and beckoning to him, and Cas crossed the room to meet him, Dean’s hand instinctively curling around his tie as he tugged him forward, their lips meeting in an awkward kiss. This was always how it started, with awkward and cautious touches. Dean was always hesitant, still new to the idea that he could have such feelings towards another man – even if Castiel was an angel and didn’t conform to gender as such, the vessel containing him was still very much male – and Castiel was… well,  _Castiel_. 

It took a moment – a long moment that seemed to stretch on far too long for Dean’s liking – but then Castiel was easing into the kiss, one hand tentatively resting on Dean’s shoulder as he stepped closer, moving easily into his personal space. Dean always had to take control, was always the leader whilst Castiel followed in blind faith. Sometimes it was overwhelming how much trust Cas put into him. 

He threaded his fingers through Cas’ dark hair, grasped tightly as he ran the tip of his tongue across Cas’ lips, a silent plea that Cas welcomed, his lips parting barely a second later. It had been weeks since they’d had a moment alone, weeks of hunting a wide variety of ghosts and ghouls, barely getting more than a few hours of sleep between jobs, and their only attempt at a quick fumble in the Impala had been thwarted when Bobby had called to bring news of a demon in the neighbouring town that needed to be dealt with. Now, alone for the night, his needs bordering on dangerously high, Dean really didn’t want to waste a single second. 

He quickly slung one arm around Castiel’s shoulders as he was suddenly lifted, marvelling again at the strength in the angel’s form. Jimmy didn’t look particularly strong, but Castiel had shown him again and again that the slender figure was incredibly deceptive. He was turned, and then dropped onto the other bed, Castiel looming over him with hunger in his eyes. 

“Damnit, Cas… have you been watching porn again?” Dean groaned, head tipping back as Cas’ lips ghosted over the curve of his throat, pausing to suck at his Adam’s Apple. Awkward and inexperienced as he was, Castiel was a fast learner – a trait for which Dean was especially glad right now. His hands slid over Cas’ shoulders, slipping beneath his jacket to grasp fistfuls of his shirt, gasping when teeth nipped at his collarbone. 

“I would call it ‘research’.” Cas replied, voice lower and huskier than usual. He allowed Dean to push the jacket from his shoulders, and he shifted away from him just long enough to let it drop to the floor before he was back over him, against him, their lips meeting in a fiercer kiss than before. Dean yanked at the tie around Cas’ neck, successfully loosening it enough to pull it free from his neck, letting it fall in an unknown location as Cas nipped at his bottom lip, hands sliding up under Dean’s shirt. 

Dean flipped them, then, pinning Cas’ body beneath his own, and helped Cas tug off his shirt. The second his bare skin was exposed, Cas was sitting upright and his lips were ghosting over his collarbone, exploring as he explored every single time, finding new scars and bruises decorating the once-flawless body he’d dragged from Hell. Dean let him, even though his body was screaming for him to move things along, because he knew what these moments meant to Cas. The angel was re-familiarising himself with a body he had come to know very well, but he was also reassuring himself that Dean was still here, still alive, and in one piece. He felt Castiel’s hands roam over his back, fingers digging into the dip between his shoulder blades, pressing firmly but not painfully. Dean grasped the front of Cas’ shirt with both hands, gaining the angel’s attention as he lifted his head to stare intensely into his face. 

“Dean.” Cas murmured, barely more than a whisper as he exhaled, his expression so open and trusting that Dean almost reminded him about his ‘no chick-flick moments’ rule. The words caught in his throat before he could voice them, however, and instead he simply loosened his grip on his shirt, resting his hands against Cas’ chest instead. There was something in the way Cas was studying him, a sort of wonder in his eyes that Dean couldn’t quite understand. The hands upon his back moved, sliding up over his shoulders before leaving his body altogether, fanning out behind him in delicate, practiced movements, as if stroking along something invisible to the eye. 

“Cas… what are you doing?” Dean questioned, turning his head this way and that, trying to see what Cas’ hands were doing. 

“I’m picturing you with wings.” Came Cas’ casual reply, his fingers twisting as though they were diving into soft feathers. Dean watched the movements, mesmerised for a moment, and he narrowed his eyes as if doing so would make the invisible wings manifest in his vision. 

“With wings, huh?” He smiled faintly, returning his gaze to Cas’ face. “Like yours?” That drew Cas’ attention away from the imaginary wings, and he tilted his head to one side again. 

“My wings?” He asked, bringing his hands back to rest behind Dean’s shoulders once more, fingers splayed out across his skin. Dean felt his muscles tense beneath the touch, and then relax, his body arching into his hands against his control. He swiftly unbuttoned Cas’ shirt and slipped it down off his shoulders, letting the fabric bunch up around his elbows as he trailed his fingertips down over Cas’ collarbone. Cas’ eyes slipped closed as Dean snaked his hands round to his back, finding that same dip between his shoulder blades. Curious, he pressed his fingers into the space, massaging the skin and the muscle beneath, and was rewarded with a sharp gasp followed by a long, low moan, the sound of which went straight to Dean’s crotch. 

“Cas?” Dean dug his fingers in again, feeling the angel shudder against him. “Cas…” He leant closer, his lips against Cas’ ear as he dropped his voice to a low murmur. “Show me your wings, Cas.” 

“You’ve… seen a form of… manifestation…” Cas gasped out, his body becoming practically boneless in Dean’s arms with every slight touch of Dean’s fingers. “A shadow… on the wall…” 

“I don’t want a shadow.” Dean growled, teeth catching at the shell of his ear, nipping sharply. “I want to be able to touch them, feel them against my fingers.” Cas moaned again, louder this time, his hands now clutching at Dean almost desperately as his hips bucked up, trying to gain friction between them. Dean’s lips moved down to Cas’ neck, biting at a particularly sensitive spot, sucking hard at his skin until he could feel the blood pulsing beneath his mouth. He pulled back to admire his work, knowing the mark would be gone the next time Cas came to them, and realised for the first time that Cas was panting, chest heaving against him with every breath, his face flushed and eyes glassy. He ran his thumb hard down the line between his shoulder blades, experimenting, and grinned as Cas hissed and his head arched back with a soundless cry. “You can do that, can’t you? You can manifest them without hurting me.” 

“Yes… yes…” Cas practically whimpered, his voice tight and strained as he struggled to stay in control of his own body. He should have known Dean would pick up on his habit of paying special attention to that one place on Dean’s back, and try it for himself, and yet it had never even occurred to him. “Dean…” 

“Then do it.” He commanded, his hands retreating – much to Cas’ displeasure, and at any other moment he might have been embarrassed by the whine that left his throat, but the haze of pleasure that engulfed his mind left him unable to even think too clearly. “Manifest them. Show me your wings, Cas.” He felt Castiel tremble against him, and a moment later the sound of fluttering wings deafened him. He closed his eyes, waiting for the sound to fade away, and then fingers cupped his chin and he slowly opened his eyes. 

He had assumed Castiel’s wings would be white. He had assumed wrong. 

They were huge, spread out behind Cas’ back proudly and no doubt in some sort of display just for him, the feathers a glossy black as opposed to pearly white. No… not quite black – they seemed to glisten in the light, shades of blue and green and grey mingling with the deep black as they twitched and fluttered gently. For a moment Dean forgot where they were and what they were doing, his attention firmly fixed upon the magnificent wings on display. Cas looked uncertain despite himself, almost uncomfortable, and it took Dean a moment to realise how intimate this must be for an angel. 

Despite his firm rule of ‘no chick-flick moments’, Dean found himself cupping Cas’ chin and leaning in to plant an uncharacteristically soft kiss on his lips, murmuring a gentle ‘it’s okay’ against his mouth as he lifted his free hand, tentatively brushing his fingertips against the spot where wings met skin on Castiel’s back. Cas shuddered, his eyes falling closed once more as Dean traced the shape of the bone along one wing with careful fingers. 

He found himself truly fascinated by them. He had seen enough birds in his life to be familiar with the shape and structure of wings, but these were unlike any he had ever seen – they were similar to a raven’s, if he was going to make any comparison, not just in the colour but in the shape of them, and for a moment he wondered if all angels had these wings. Before he could stop himself, he lifted himself up onto his knees and wove his fingers into the soft plumage of the shorter, softer feathers close to Castiel’s body – and Castiel arched against him with a choked cry. For a moment Dean tensed, panicking that he had injured the angel, but then Cas’ hands gripped his hips tightly and a shuddering moan escaped his lips. So, angel wings were sensitive. That was good to know. 

Not wanting to overwhelm Cas too much to start with, Dean slowly stroked his fingers through the greater secondary covert feathers, loving how Cas trembled against him, his head falling forward to rest against Dean’s chest, breath escaping in harsh pants. The feathers were soft to the touch, and yet firm, almost like steel in strength, and they twitched beneath his touch, ruffling with every movement he made. As his hands reached the greater primary cover feathers, and in turn, the primary feathers, he felt a rush of air brush against the skin of his back, ruffling his hair very slightly, and in the corner of his eye he saw a black shadow encase him. 

The gentle touch of feathers ghosted over his skin, and he met Castiel’s intense gaze, his fingers still twisted in the long primary feathers. Keeping their eyes locked, searching for any sign that he was hurting him or making him uncomfortable, Dean took a single feather between his thumb and forefinger, and stroked firmly down its length. Cas’ lips parted as a shuddering gasp escaped, but he didn’t look away, the wing curved around Dean’s body shifting closer until he could feel the weight of it pressing against his back. 

They could both feel the heat radiating from each other, and their breaths mingled together as Dean was pressed even closer against Cas. The angel’s hands fell to the waistband of Dean’s jeans, and he slowly popped the button and slid the zipper down, snaking both hands inside to slide down against his thighs. Dean gave a soft groan, gently grabbing a handful of feathers that sent a shiver down Cas’ spine, his hands now tugging the jeans down, his intent clear. 

Dean released his hold on the feathers and shifted awkwardly until he could kick his jeans off, and when he turned back to Cas he found the angel kneeling upon the bed, his own trousers removed even though Dean hadn’t seen him move. It took him three seconds to recognise the predatory look in those sharp blue eyes before Cas had him pinned against the wall the bed sat against, both hands twisting in his hair as his mouth came down hard and hot against Dean’s. Feathers ruffled as the wings slowly closed around them, blocking Dean in, and Dean’s hands searched for a handhold – they settled against Cas’ ribs, feeling soft feathers grazing his knuckles as Cas pressed hard against him. 

When Cas bucked into him, their hard lengths grinding together, Dean threw his head back with a loud moan and his fingers grabbed handfuls of feathers. He heard Cas hiss, and then teeth attacked his throat, biting sharply as warm hands grabbed him by the hips, and they rutted together. Dean recognised this pace, this fierce predatory attitude, and knew that Castiel was going to own him that night. He threaded his fingers through the secondary feathers as he parted his legs for him, too aroused to care how wanton and desperate he might look. Cas’ wings shook and spread out once more as the angel slid down Dean’s body, dragging him further down onto the bed as he did so, his mouth finding every contour of Dean’s chest and stomach. 

His feathers ruffled in what Dean would later realise was delight as he parted Dean’s legs further with his hands, studying him spread out before him. Dean regained clear thought to know what Cas was waiting for, and he reached for the bedside table, fumbling until he found the tube he had set aside before calling Cas here – he pressed it into the waiting hand, and let his head fall back with a sigh of anticipation as he heard Cas squirt out some of the contents into his hand. He flinched and tensed at the intrusion of the first finger, but his mind was soon distracted when soft feathers brushed reassuringly against his cheek. He lifted his head, the tip of one wing stroking along his jaw, and as Cas nuzzled against the inside of one thigh, Dean turned his head and buried his face welcomingly into the raven feathers. 

He felt the intrusion of another finger, but it barely registered as painful, and his legs parted further to make things easier. The feathers flexed against his face, and he lifted a hand to grasp the bone of the wing firmly, holding it in place. He was overcome with the desire to draw one of those feathers into his mouth, and he parted his lips, gently sucking on the tip of one feather. Castiel moaned loudly, his hand coming to a halt and his head bowing as he shuddered with pleasure, his free hand tightening on Dean’s hip as he fought to focus on his task. Dean curled his tongue around the feather, trying to work out what it was he could taste – it wasn’t anything he expected, but nor was it altogether unpleasant, and he drew the feather further into his mouth. It registered in his mind that he was essentially giving Castiel’s wing a blow job and that it was pretty fucking weird, but if Castiel kept making those noises then he really didn’t care. 

The feathers were pulled away out of reach, and he whined at the loss before he could stop himself, but then Cas was above him and kissing him and he forgot about the wings as the angel –  _his_  angel – pressed hot and hard against him, teasing at his slick entrance as if begging to be granted access. Dean hooked one leg around his hips and urged him inside, his own length throbbing with need now. As Cas pushed inside him, Dean’s back arched off the bed as he cried out, and with a deafening flutter Cas’ wings circled beneath him, encasing him in a thick, black cocoon of feathers. Settled deep inside Dean, Cas took a moment to catch his breath, drinking in the sight of him beneath him. Dean’s hands wandered blindly until they settled on Cas’ shoulders, and he lifted his head to fix him with a fierce gaze. 

“Do it.” He murmured. “Claim me.” Cas gave a nod, and his hips pulled back only for him to thrust deep inside Dean once more. The hunter could barely hold back the sounds that ripped from his throat as Cas repeated the action over and over, feathers rippling across his skin as his wings twitched and flexed, his own voice sounding out through deep moans and murmurs of Dean’s name as he let his carnal instincts take control of his actions. When Dean begged for it harder, he complied, their slick bodies moving together in a fast, rough pace. Each time Dean threw his head back and exposed the long line of his neck, Cas moved in, tongue swiping over his flushed skin, tasting the salt of his sweat and scenting the pheromones Dean was giving off in the heat of his passion. 

Dean’s hands clutched at his shoulders, nails digging into his skin and clawing down his arms and his back, leaving long red lines in their wake. They slid into downy feathers and grasped, even tugging slightly, his legs wrapping tightly around Cas’ waist as he rocked back against him, pushing him in deeper, and deeper, until he felt well and truly claimed and owned. Cas was the only thing in existence to have this ownership over him, and no other would ever take his place. 

He felt heat coil down below, and knew it wouldn’t be long before he reached his peak. His throat constricted around another moan, and he felt Cas’ tongue dip into the gap between his collarbones, teeth nipping at his skin as he sucked hard against him. He came with a shuddering cry, spilling hot against his stomach, and Cas’ voice joined his own as he brought the angel over with him, filling him with glorious heat. Dean forced his eyes to open as he always did, not wanting to miss Cas in the throes of his passion – and his breath caught in his throat. 

Cas had always looked beautiful in this rare moment, but nothing would ever compare to the sight that met Dean’s eyes this time. Eyes closed, lips parted, his head thrown back, Cas seemed to be outlined by an ethereal glow, his gorgeous wings stretched out either side of him, trembling and fluttering as he rode out his climax, the feathers flexed as wide as they could. When Castiel stilled, and the wings relaxed, folding back into their natural position, Dean reached up and ran a hand through Cas’ unruly hair, pulling him down for a long, lingering kiss. 

He sighed as Cas withdrew from him, and settled comfortably against his side, one wing draped across Dean’s body as though it wanted to conceal the sight to the outside world. Dean usually objected to anything bordering on cuddling after sex, and normally Cas would sprawl beside him close enough to feel Dean’s body heat against his own, but with enough space between them for them both to be comfortable, but this time was different. More intimate. Cas’ head rested on the pillow beside Dean’s, his breath ghosting across Dean’s cheek, and one arm loosely stretched over his chest, a leg tangled with Dean’s. 

Part of Dean wanted to make an inappropriate comment, or do something that would ensure Cas would move, but instead he found himself shifting closer instead of away, and he found himself taking Cas’ hand, their fingers loosely interlocking. The wing draped over him fluttered happily, and he felt rather than saw Cas smile. 

“This is unusual for you.” Cas murmured, lips pressing to Dean’s cheek. 

“Yeah, well…” Dean replied softly, eyes closing as he turned to rest his forehead against Cas’. “You might have to get used to it.” When he opened his eyes, Cas’ bright blue ones were shining with something that could only be delight, and he was smiling – a proper smile, the first Dean could ever recall seeing. Dean felt his own lips tug into a matching smile, and then Cas’s eyes lowered briefly, almost coyly, before returning to his own. 

“Dean…” He sighed, content. “No chick-flick moments, remember?” 

“Shut up, Cas.”


End file.
